raining more than ever

Across the front lot, past the open chain-link gates, a lonely figure sits hunched over at the bus stop. The bench has no awning, nothing to keep off the rain. He was there when it started raining, the better part of an hour ago. Perhaps he arrived on a city bus. Kory doesn’t know; she didn’t see. She has only seen him sitting there, dark hair and sky-blue jacket plastered flat by the rain.

“You know him?”

“No,” Kory says. She grabs her umbrella from the coat rack. “But I think he needs help.”